


i can show you the world

by elle_you_oh, itsamagicalplace



Series: A Modern Retelling [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Aladdin AU, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_you_oh/pseuds/elle_you_oh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamagicalplace/pseuds/itsamagicalplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shudders as another gust of cold wind blows past, sending chills through his body, and she tilts her head to one side, expression laced with concern.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can show you the world

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally posted 20th January 2015._

Autumn brings cooler winds, colder mornings, and shorter hours of sunlight. The leaves in the park have begun to change from green, to red, orange and brown, and the grass now frosts up in the early mornings.

Phil pulls his tattered jacket closer as he shuffles slightly on the mouldy park bench. The wood is uneven and often damp before the sun's light dries it throughout the day, but he knows that many people in the city have nowhere to sleep but here, and he's grateful that he has a roof over his head.

Even as he allows the thoughts to swirl around in his mind, he makes sure to keep a close eye on his charge, Leo, as the boy scrambles up a tree, swinging from branch to branch.

Phil had been on the streets as long as he could remember.

He has distant and foggy memories of a better time, a different city, living in a small house with both his parents and attending a neighbourhood school. But that had been decades ago, and now it was a struggle each day to reach the next.

Leo still has his mother; she had found employment as a dishmaid across town, and Phil watched over the boy for her when she was working. He himself was only able to get small part-time jobs now and then, but even for that he was grateful. The people at the homeless shelter were kind, and hopeful that his life would take a turn for the better, but with no possessions other than the clothes on his back, he believed that this was what life had in store for him.

Until later on that month, when he met her.

It’s the last day of October, and Phil is sitting on that same park bench, watching Leo climb that exact same tree. It’s their weekend routine, tree climbing in the morning, and then later in the afternoon, Phil would sit Leo down and try to educate him the best he could, with his limited knowledge. He could read and write well enough, but nowhere near the level needed to find a better job or even consider a future that didn’t involve being homeless.

“Roar, I’m a tiger.”

Phil is brought out of his thoughts as Leo quickly descends from the tree and begins a game of tag with a little girl. She’s pretending to be some sort of large cat, and is chasing him around, both laughing hysterically as they make believe a scenario where they’re in an African forest together.

“Jemma, please don’t ruin your new dress. Your mother will have my head.”

There’s a woman walking towards him, and he hasn’t been many places or seen many things, but it isn’t an exaggeration when he decides, within moments of laying his eyes on her, that she’s easily the most beautiful thing on the planet.

She’s bundled up in a dark grey winter coat; a white woolen scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, and a pair of black wool boots are on her feet. Her long dark hair is flowing freely in the wind behind her, and she smiles a little hesitantly as she sits down beside him. He doesn't think the bench will do any good to her pants, but she doesn't seem to mind as she turns towards him.

“Is he yours?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his hands, barely covered in tattered gloves.

 

“He seems to be getting along well with Jemma, she’s usually pretty shy around new people.”

 

Phil doesn’t know how to respond, because a beautiful woman is sitting beside him, in an attempt to engage him in a conversation. Judging from her appearance, she seemed to be quite wealthy, and he probably smelt like the back end of a garbage truck.

He shudders as another gust of cold wind blows past, sending chills through his body, and she tilts her head to one side, expression laced with concern.

“Are you okay?”

Not, are you homeless? Not, do you need help? Not, you poor thing, here have a dollar and get yourself something warm. He didn’t want pity, and she didn’t give it to him.

Phil nods, digging his fingers none too gently into his thighs to stop himself from shaking

“How long?” she asks him, and again, her voice is filled only with concern.

“I can’t remember.”

They’re the first words he’s said to her, and his throat is dry and scratchy, and there was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to run.

“Are you here everyday?”

He’s thankful that she’s changed the topic, and nods slowly, gaze locked on Leo and the little girl, Jemma, as they continued to charge around with youthful exuberance.

She’s silent after that, and doesn’t try to speak to him again. He's a terrible conversationalist at the best of times, and is honestly surprised she lasted as long as she did. She doesn't move however, and continues to sit beside him for quite some time; he isn't sure how long, he can't tell.

When she finally stands, one hand holding onto the little girl’s, she offers him another smile and a sentence that allows him to look forward to the future for once, rather than dread it.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t get that chance to see the woman the next day, because that morning, a strange man in a dark suit, with white hair and round, rimmed glasses turns up at the homeless shelter, looking for someone to do a job for him.

Phil hadn’t worked in months, no one would hire him, not even as a cleaner, so he jumps at the chance. The man is very specific with what kind of person he wants to hire, and luckily for Phil, he fits the bill.

Not in the system, never travelled outside the country, homeless for a long period of time.

The man, who had introduced himself as Dr. Whitehall, ushers Phil into his limousine and drives off, and as Phil shuffles uncomfortably on the expensive leather seat, he wonders what on earth he has gotten himself into.

When they finally pull up outside an isolated mansion, it is already dark outside. Earlier, Dr. Whitehall had taken him to an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city and given him a chance to shower, a change of clothes and a hearty meal.

“There’s a sub-level storage unit beneath the basement of the estate. The doors should all be unlocked. All you have to do is enter, and bring me back a case, labelled with the numbers 084. Whatever you do, do not open the box.”

He had been given instructions, and then dropped outside the front gates, left to fend for himself. That Dr. Whitehall had seemed like a shifty character, quite creepy too, but Phil had encountered many of those in his years, and whatever it was that he was asking Phil to do was probably, most likely illegal.

But he can’t back out now.

As he clambers over the gates, he has a sense of deja vu. How many times had he jumped fences to avoid police in his younger days?

He runs across the lawn to the front doors, which are open, just like Dr. Whitehall said they would be. The lights are all switched on in the hall, and despite the size of the estate, Phil can almost say with confidence that the place is deserted.

He replays the directions he was given in his mind, navigating his way through the empty mansion, pausing every time the floor floor creams beneath him. The place appeared as though it had been ransacked - there was broken glass everywhere, orange and black streamers strewn all about and blood, he honestly can't tell if it is fake or not, smeared across many surfaces.

Phil knows he has arrived at his target destination, after descending several flights of stairs, when large set of metal doors lay ahead of him, accompanied by a thumb scanner and keypad installed onto the adjacent wall.

Shakily, he reaches up and presses his right thumb onto the scanner, entering a code that according to Dr. Whitehall, would scramble the system and open the doors.

“744353."

The keypad and scanner flash green, and a robotic voice croaks out a quiet ‘Access Granted’, as the door slides open.

The room that lies ahead is enormous, much like the empty warehouse he had visited earlier in the day. Except this room is piled high with treasures.

The walls are lined with shelves, filled with ancient artifacts, old paintings, a truly impressive collection of artwork. There are also modern riches, technologies Phil has never before seen in his life, strange metal objects, a shiny red car that appears to have been polished within an inch of it’s life, plastic cases filled with jewels and gold. There are several in one corner that have been smashed, the contents removed, and Phil has a feeling someone had been here before him.

“Goddamn it. Son, could you stop staring at my stuff and help a guy out?”

Phil’s gaze shifts towards the sound; in the far corner of the room, where he had not looked over yet.

There's a man sat in a chair, his arms and legs bound with thick ropes.

That isn't the strangest thing though.

He's blue in colour, has only one eye, and is dressed in only beige boxer like shorts.

Phil hurries over and begins undoing the knots, and he supposed now is probably a good time to keep his mouth shut, but he can't resist asking.

“Why are you blue?”

He nearly falls over as the man laughs a roaring laughter that echoes through the room, and almost stops his heart.

“It’s the day after Halloween son, some chick dressed as cat woman tied me up here and stole my stuff.”

Well, that certainly explained things. Not everything, but some things.

“You weren’t planning to rob me too were you?”

Phil shuffles his feet, not wanting to look up at the man he had just freed.

“Dr. Whitehall wanted a box.”

Oh Phil is so dead. Either this man would have him arrested, or if he's quick enough to escape here unscathed but empty handed, Whitehall probably has methods of making him disappear. But the man just laughs again and Phil takes a step back, not sure how to proceed in this situation.

“That stupid architect junkie has been trying to his hands on my collections for years. What a nut bar. Who collects that stuff?”

Phil wants to respond that evidently he did, but keeps his mouth shut in fear.

“Well son, I’ll make you a deal. Since you rescued me, I’ll give you something in return. You have three requests; now I’m not magical, I can’t make the impossible happen, but anything else, you name it and it’s yours.”

So maybe hope for the future doesn't always come exactly as one might imagine it.

The next morning, an envelope arrives at the homeless shelter, addressed to one Leo Fitz. One of the volunteers finds it wedged beneath their door, and brings it to the young boy and his mother, who nearly pass out in shock after reading it.

Inside the envelope is a note addressed to young Leo Fitz that reads;

_ “To the little monkey boy, May all your dreams come true.” _

And a cheque for a million dollars.

Leo doesn't yet understand the significance of the zeros that followed the one on the thin piece of paper in his hand, but there soon came a day where he would.

_ There’s a little boy down at the homeless shelter; his name is Leo Fitz. I want to make sure he’s well taken care of, so he doesn’t have to grow up like I did. _

 

* * *

 

 

Phil’s dressed smartly, in a suit and tie the day he enrolled at the local college to pursue a degree in American History. He is several years older than a majority of the students in his class, but he doesn’t mind.

With assignments and textbooks in tow, he returns home, to a tiny apartment on the 2nd floor to deposit his things before leaving for work. He has a job as an office clerk at Fury & Co. Industries, and whenever he isn't studying, he is working.

He takes the time, whenever it is available, to volunteer at that homeless shelter where he had spent most of his life, and thanking those that had believed in him.

Three years later, he’s graduated and with a little help from his employer, has secured himself a job as a history teacher at a local school, where he once again encounters Leo, who is now a brilliant young science student.

_ I want a chance to prove myself, to have the future that I once imagined. I don’t want to be handed something on a platter, I want to earn it. _

 

* * *

 

Melinda May was born wealthy; but that didn’t mean she didn’t work hard. Under the watchful eyes of her parents, she rose to prominence in the hotel industry, taking over the family business.

She once met a homeless man on a park bench, and there was not a single reason the encounter should have been memorable.

But she didn’t forget.

She returned to the park day after day, to see if would show up, and he never did. After several months, she eventually gave up and returned to her life as normal.

One evening, after she returns home from the office, there's a tapping sound at balcony window, and she walks out, barefoot, to find the source of the noise.

The man from the park stands outside, apparently floating in thin air, and she holds one hand to her heart as she approaches him. He's different, clean shaven, well dressed, and appearance wise, nothing like what he had been when she had first encountered him.

“The day we met, you gave me hope, for the first time in my life. And well then I met a creepy man then an even creepier blue guy, but never mind, I’m rambling. I’ve achieved what I want in life, and I’m only looking for companionship.”

He stretches a hand out to her, and she steps closer, peering out over the edge of the balcony. He's standing in a car that is somehow floating in the air, and it’s crazy and risky and insane, but she made a fortune in her business by taking risks.

She takes his hand, clambering over the bannister and into the passenger's seat, buckling herself in as he does the same. He grins, resting his hands on the wheel as he turns to her. 

“Where to first?”

_ Oh, and I want that car. _


End file.
